Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship Read Online Free PDF Page A

Davis said. “Lieutenant Commander Singh says it will be providing power to the ship within fifteen minutes.”
    “Very good,” Jackson said. “Tell him to wait until number one is providing stable power before moving on to number three.”
    “How long until we’re ready to depart, Captain Wolfe?” Aston Lynch asked from an observation chair along the rear bulkhead.
    “How many starships have you been on, Mr. Lynch?” Jackson asked.
    “Enough,” the aide said defensively. “I travel extensively in Senator Wellington’s service.”
    “I’m sure you do. But this is not a brand new courier ship that was already in orbit. This is a forty-year-old destroyer that was completely shut down. The short answer is, Mr. Lynch, that we will not be departing this system until sometime well after tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?!”
    “I said after tomorrow. Probably closer to a week,” Jackson said, struggling to maintain his calm. “We have a single reactor started, one out of four. The Blue Jacket will need to be pulled out of dock, put into transfer orbits until reaching departure altitude, and pushed out of Haven’s local gravity. After that the reactors will be run up and the mains will be fired. They haven’t been running for over a month so it will be a cold start. Then, once they are capable of providing thrust … do I really need to go on?”
    “No,” Lynch said sullenly. “If there’s no need for me to be up here I will return to my quarters, Captain.”
    “That would probably be best, Mr. Lynch,” Jackson agreed pleasantly.
    The political operative stood, smoothed his jacket out, and walked off the bridge, but not before taking a moment to admire Commander Wright’s side profile while he thought she wasn’t looking.
    “This is going to be a pleasant cruise,” Celesta said quietly.
    “Orders are orders, Commander,” Jackson said, not taking his eyes off his display. She gave him a confused frown before turning back to her own displays. Jackson completely agreed with her, but he didn’t see any use in pissing and moaning in front of the crew. It set a bad precedent and punctured holes in the illusion that a ship’s captain was master of his domain.
    “Engineering reports that reactor three is now running,” Ensign Davis said, breaking into the quiet conversation.
    “Lieutenant McCord, you may begin,” Jackson said to the docking pilot who had been standing patiently off to the side of the bridge.
    “Thank you, Captain,” the pilot said. He sat at the secondary helm station and configured the station to his liking before nodding to the spacer second class, who was sitting at the primary helm station, to indicate he was taking control of the ship. The young enlisted man just nodded and put his hands down in his lap.
    McCord slipped on his headset and patched himself into the com panel, allowing him access to the Blue Jacket's short-range radios. Jackson could see him talking to the small armada of tugs that had assembled just in front of their docking berth, ordering them around and watching their progress through video feeds piped in from the destroyer’s external cameras and feeds from Jericho Station.
    Jackson watched semi-interestedly as the small, powerful tugs attached themselves to the hull in half a dozen places with their magnetic grapples. After some more back and forth with McCord it looked like they were ready to depart.
    “Captain, we are in position and ready to proceed on your order,” Lieutenant McCord said.
    “Proceed,” Jackson said before keying on the shipwide intercom. “All hands, prepare for microgravity conditions. Secure all loose items and ensure anyone not strapped into a seat is wearing mag-boots. That is all.”
    “Jericho Control, this is Blue Jacket requesting permission to depart,” McCord said over the open com channel that controlled the space directly around the massive station.
    “ Permission granted, Blue Jacket ,” the controller replied after a few